He Was Always There
by Athena Writer 24601
Summary: Natasha and Clint, on Phil's death.


Hi there! Thanks for stopping by!

This is my first completed story for the Avengers. I have a million ideas jotted down but I can't seem to find time for them. I had to get this out of my system.

Please review and let me know what you think!

He Was Always There by Athena Writer 24601

Phil Coulson was always there.

He was there for Natasha after missions, when she'd been exhausted and injured. He was there for her when her stupidness had gotten Clint injured and he was unconscious in the medical bay. He brought her books and talked to her. He wasn't afraid of her like other agents were.

She didn't like him at first. Really, she didn't like anyone at SHIELD when she first arrived. She still felt guilty for defecting. She scowled at everyone and brushed them away. She did this with Clint for a while and even longer with their handler.

Natasha slowly came to trust Phil, and after that he earned her respect. Not too many people can earn the respect of Agent Romanoff.

Phil was like a father to her. He was kind and caring. He wasn't manipulative like the men Natasha was used to from Russia. He didn't hurt her. He didn't bring up her past. In fact, he was the one that removed some of the downright horrible stuff from her file a few years back when she became and official agent, after eight months of training and close watch by SHIELD. He understood that she hated being judged and scorned and pitied for the weights and chains of her past. He understood her and made her feel safe, especially on missions. When she called in for help he was always as fast as he possibly could be. Natasha honestly didn't know what she'd do without Phil.

When she found out, she was sitting in Clint's cell, waiting for him to wake up after his "cognitive recalibration". She'd heard Fury over the comm shouting for a med team...and then Phil Couson's last words as Fury tried to keep him awake. It would haunt her for the rest of her life, just like so many other things.

She had wanted to believe it wasn't true, and it didn't really hit her until Maria Hill announced, crestfallen, that they had lost Coulson.

She cried when she realized he was really gone. She cried good and hard, and was thankful Clint was unconscious. She didn't want to him to see her breaking down, because then he'd ask why.

And oh God, what was she supposed to tell him? That he helped Loki infiltrate SHIELD and that Loki was able to kill Coulson? She couldn't. He'd find out eventually, but Natasha didn't want to be the one.

Her partner stirred beside her, and she wiped the tears away and stood next to him, waiting. Waiting for the inevitable.

Clint had always known that Phil would always have his back. If a mission went bad, he'd be there offering optimism. If Tasha was hurt, Phil would remind him that it wasn't his fault. When he was having a bad day, he could call up Phil and he would drop his plans to come and talk to Clint. He always made Clint feel better, safer. Coulson was like the fatherly figure he never had.

Clint woke up, dizzy and pained and confused. He and Natasha had a long talk, and he felt he was going to be crushed by his guilt. He killed SHIELD agents. He helped Loki get in. He knew ge was to blame.

"Where's Coulson?" he asked, knowing he needed to talk to his handler.

Natasha looked pained, like he'd just slapped her. He could tell she was forcing the words out. "Coulson's dead, Hawkeye."

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He knew she wasn't kidding by her haunted expression and the fact that she called him Hawkeye. She never called him Hawkeye unless they were out in the field or something was seriously wrong.

He barely managed to choke out, "How?"

She winced and stared down at her hands. "Loki stabbed him. He...he tried to take him down by himself. Something he'd do, trying some heroics." She gave him a wry smile that didn't meet her eyes.

He knows it's his fault. He knows that even though the others won't admit it, he is to blame for the death of Phil.

The day of the funeral, a few weeks later, after the Battle of New York, is gray and cloudy. Natasha and Clint are exhausted; they're still recovering from injuries and are plagued by nightmares and insomnia. They stand silently at his coffin, Natasha crying, Clint's face an emotionless mask. They drop in their tokens for him-pictures, memories. Something to hold them together.

He was always there, but now he is gone. And they don't know what to do without him.


End file.
